


a blaze of light in every word

by impulserun



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:59:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5184623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impulserun/pseuds/impulserun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not quite fair to lose your soulmate as quickly as you find them, but Enjolras will manage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a blaze of light in every word

**Author's Note:**

> I faintly recall seeing this in a tumblr post somewhere. Soulmate AU where you get your soulmate's last words to you as a tattoo.

“Grantaire,” the blond spits, eyes crackling blue with utter disdain and disapproval twisting his lips, “you are incapable of believing, of thinking, of willing, of living, and of dying.”

The pain shreds through him all at once. Not just the knowledge that Enjolras – his soulmate, his other half, his – _his_ – abhors him so, no – Grantaire has always known that. No. But to have it confirmed what he already knew –

This barricade, this insurgency, what of it? They will not succeed. That he knows too, with the foolhardy resilience of one who has been sorely disappointed by all of life’s twists and turns, and yet has the idiocy to still expect something different – that is it not it, but –

He knows. He _knows_.

He will not see Enjolras again.

“You will see,” he manages, far more calmly than he feels. Then, when he sees Enjolras’ countenance unmarred – _he does not know, he is not yet aware, that I am_ – he struggles, tries with a tongue too thick for speech, to produce the words etched into Enjolras’ skin, but the blond is already turning away, and –

The alcohol claims him, all at once.

*

Enjolras stands calmly in the corner of the room, broken stump of a weapon in his hand. Somehow, some part of him must have known it would come to this, for when the guards fill into the room he feels nothing – just the slightest twinge of resignation, and guilt for his lost friends.

“Shoot me,” he says, and throws away the barrel of what once had been a gun.

He absolutely does not feel any satisfaction when the guardsmen hesitate. Perhaps they had thought him a coward, at the very end; but no. He will not give them the satisfaction of watching him beg for mercy. He is better than that.

They deliberate a while more, even pause to offer him a blindfold – the audacity, as if there could be a worse sight than Combeferre being speared in the back, falling to stare at the sky with unseeing brown eyes – he pauses, heart clenching at the memory. Combeferre – if Enjolras were willing to hazard a guess, he would have thought the man his soulmate – but no. He has yet to hear the words burnt into the palm of his hand. He doubts now if he ever will.

That is fine. There are worse pains than never meeting your soulmate. He does not need one, anyway. Not anymore.

“Take aim!” the sergeant cries, and –

“Long live the Republic! I am one of them.”

His breath catches in his throat. _Grantaire_.

“Long live the Republic,” he repeats, as if they had not heard him the first time. Enjolras watches as he crosses the room to take his place at his side, his gait steady and firm.

He doesn’t understand – if Grantaire had not died, if he had survived, why had he chosen to stay –

“Finish us both at one blow,” he hears him say, distantly, then Grantaire is turning to him, and –

“Do you permit it?”

Enjolras – oh, Enjolras thinks he finally understands.

He smiles as he reaches out to take his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> bye guys i'm off to finish my term paper now ;;


End file.
